"Damn it…"
I could still feel the bitter taste of my vomit lingering in my throat as I closed the door behind me. I threw myself on top of my bed.
"Why me…?" I muttered into the sheets.
To speak a lie is to welcome the devil into your heart.
I heard the words that Rinara would whisper to me when we were kids echo in my mind. Her father—my master—would sing those words after catching me lying to him.
I once lived by those words because I was afraid of the hot rod he would prod us with when misbehaving. He would often say that a hero of the people would seek the truth, no matter how despairing. That is how a genuine hero shows his conviction.
But the truth, all it does is destroy.
Like a mirror, the truth of Rinara's death fractured everything. The cracks in my mind slowly webbed, expanding to the furthest corners of my mind, threatening to shatter my psyche—what was left of it anyway.
Lies, they are your best friend. They shield you from the bitter world. They deflect your inner doubts and allow you to live the way you want to live.
It was only after Master's passing that I realized the true lesson behind those accursed words he spoke to us. To save people, you must do whatever it takes, even if it means becoming a devil yourself.
After all, that man was nothing but a liar.
"Rinne," I muttered. "Sorry, lass, I made my choice the moment it left your lips: I am not helping you find your mother's killer. That is a truth that will drive this city into the depths of the void."
But how can I keep her from finding out?
I turned to my window, where the never-ending sound of steam still failed to lull me to sleep, even now when my eyes grew heavy.
"Guess I'll stop by Margaret's. I need to get the kid some clothes after all. Might as well ask her for advice." I said while getting up from my bed and approaching a desk near the window.
On the chair was a set of clothing I had thrown: thick leather vestments and a pair of goggles. On the table were brass plates that would protect my arms and shoulders. I dressed myself and grabbed my weapon off the wall near the desk.
A long blade fixed to a stem of brass gears that lined the back of the sword. Its handle was a narrow canister that had a small trigger under the handguard. Once the blade was secured to my back, I leaped out the window.
The darkness of the night greeted me with its cold embrace. The darkness was not from the shining moon above; after all, the Middle Core never knew of a moon nor sun.
A ceiling of pipes stood tall above the Middle Core. Several dimmed lights hung from the pipes, mimicking the moonlit sky.
Adjusting my goggles to sit above my head, I walked down an alleyway, following the same path of corroded pipes that hadn't seen steam in years.
I approached a building that seemed like nothing more than a large mirror. In that mirror, I saw myself, along with it, floating behind me. But as I always did, I ignored its presence and tapped on the mirror three times with my knuckles.
My knuckles rested on the door after the third knock. I know I said these were mirrors, but that's how they look to any normal passerby during the night. In reality, these were one-way glass walls.
Margaret, the owner of this store I stood in front of, had a weird little hobby of investing in niche things that no sane person would want. She figured that there was no better enjoyment in life than to drink some wine while watching young adults in the city's nightlife check themselves out while unknowingly being laughed at.
As I waited, a metallic sound reached my ears. I could only describe it as rapid clanking, like a pot about to blow its lid. I turned to face the source of the sound as something tugged at my clothes.
"Mister…" a weak voice followed. It sounded like a child's, lacking both volume and hope.
Next to me was a small child. Due to the sound, I must not have noticed her approach. She was timid-looking with tear-stained eyes that hid behind a somewhat oversized pair of goggles. From her height alone, I would say she's no more than ten. But it was hard to tell with certainty, as she was dressed in bland leather clothing that was less fashionable than it was protective.
She tugged at my arm harder, and as she did, the clattering sound of metal grew louder. Her eyes then drifted away with sadness as her hand moved away, leaving a small dark stain on my clothes.
I reflexively grabbed her hand, causing her to yelp a little from surprise. Blood covered the palms of her hands, but there were no visible wounds.
But before I could look harder, the metal clanking stopped with a violent burst of steam filling the area. I moved the girl closer to me. As I did, a metal valve handle flew past, bouncing off the ground and embedding itself in a nearby wall.
I held the girl tight, shielding her from the hot steam until the pressure lessened.
"Are you okay?" I asked the girl.
Given what could have happened, we both seemed physically unharmed; thank the goddess for thick clothing. The girl stood in shock for a moment before looking at me with a slight shimmer of hope in her eyes.
"Yeah…" she said before tugging at my sleeve. Her hands were trembling ever so slightly. "Mommy…please…she needs help!"
I stared at her blankly. She was visibly tired, and her hands were stained with old blood. If her mother needed help, it was too late.
But this girl, she still pleaded, even after nearly dying; she was still worried about her mother.
"Lead the way," I said. The girl perked up a little with a slight smile and walked forward. I pursued, and as I did, the doors of the store opened. As I turned the corner, I heard a pained noise as the doors closed.
Whoever the poor sucker just waltzed in there was, I feel for them. There was nothing worse than entering the den of a beast without permission.